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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534482">prefect rounds</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall'>insufferableknowitall</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Compliant, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Hogwarts Prefects, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Minor Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Mutual Pining, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:07:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534482</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/insufferableknowitall/pseuds/insufferableknowitall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>what happened fifth and sixth year during prefect rounds? what did Ron and Hermione talk about all those nights? Spanning from fifth year to post-battle.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. fifth year, part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, I can’t believe her! That vile woman, saying those things to Harry...and Harry! Saying those things to us!” Despite the fact that she had significantly shorter legs than him, Hermione walked briskly ahead of Ron, fuming so much he almost chuckled (though he knew better). He had to jog to catch up to her and nearly slipped as he skidded around the corner and fell into step at her side. </p>
<p>“Keep up this pace and we’ll be done with rounds in record time,” he muttered, to which she turned and glared at him. </p>
<p>“You agree, don’t you?” Her tone made him feel like he was in an exam. Though, for some reason, he didn’t mind it. “He’s treating us like rubbish!”</p>
<p>“Oh, I agree,” Ron snorted. “Wouldn’t dare say that to his face, though…”</p>
<p>“Well maybe you should! He’s not going to listen to me. I know that Umbridge woman deserves a hex in the face, but he shouldn’t be taking it out on us. We’re the two people who listen! And...why are you smirking?” She had her hands on her hips and her hair seemed to have grown in volume over the course of her rant. </p>
<p>“Not smirking.”</p>
<p>“Yes you are.”</p>
<p>“I just agree with you. Which is funny, because Harry was yelling at us the other day about always bickering...glad we can both agree that Harry’s being a prat.” </p>
<p>Hermione let out a little huff and then sighed and began to twiddle with a lock of hair. She slowed to a halt and stared at one of the suits of armor along the walls, clearly lost in thought. Ron watched her tentatively. </p>
<p>“What d’you reckon we do about it?” he asked. </p>
<p>She shook her head. “I’m really at a loss here, Ron. I’ve tried to be understanding, but…”</p>
<p>“Well, we can’t exactly understand, can we?”</p>
<p>She turned to face him and frowned. “How do you mean?”</p>
<p>“I mean, what Harry went through last year...well, that’ll mess a bloke up, right? And I think no matter how hard we try, we weren’t there, so we just won’t...get it. We just have to be patient, yeah?”</p>
<p>Hermione studied him with an expression she typically only reserved for textbooks. Ron felt his cheeks going red and hoped they’d be hidden in the darkness of the corridor. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” Hermione admitted, which Ron took as a feat in itself - Ron Weasley thought of something Hermione Granger hadn’t. He grinned and puffed out his chest in mock pride. </p>
<p>“I’ve been known to have good ideas. Y’know, maybe once a month, once a year…”</p>
<p>Hermione laughed and shook her head. “You can be very insightful when you want to be, Ron.”</p>
<p>“Can I get that in writing?”</p>
<p>“Ha, ha.”</p>
<p>They continued on their prefect patrol in an amicable silence. It was their second one so far that year, and Ron was growing more and more grateful he’d been chosen as prefect. Sure, it had come as a shock to him - a shock to his whole family, and everyone, when he thought about it. He got just as good of grades as any of the other boys in his year and sure, he’d helped save the school once or twice. But he always thought it would be Harry - Harry was the more notorious of the two. When the letter arrived, he’d wondered if it had been a mistake, if they'd accidentally placed the badge in the wrong envelope. Yet he hadn’t considered the added bonus of extra time with Hermione. Without Harry chewing the two of them out constantly. </p>
<p>“Guess we’ll have to keep the bickering to a minimum ‘round Harry,” he said casually as they climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. </p>
<p>“We don’t bicker that much.”</p>
<p>Ron let out a laugh. “Yes, yes we do.”</p>
<p>Hermione smiled and shrugged. “I’d call them...interesting conversations. Heated debates.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes. Your criticism of the way I write the letter ‘y’ is such riveting conversation.”</p>
<p>“Well, you do them wrong!”</p>
<p>They both laughed. </p>
<p>“All right, well, we’ll just have to save what you call interesting conversations for our prefect rounds, yeah? Least till Harry...calms down.”</p>
<p>“Do you think he will?”</p>
<p>Ron sighed. “I don’t know, Hermione. I think...well, I think he’s been through hell, and I think we’ll just have to stick by him. No matter what.”</p>
<p>“That’s very Gryffindor of you,” she grinned. </p>
<p>“Been known to happen.” </p>
<p>Hermione pushed open the door to an empty classroom and the two peered inside. “Empty.”</p>
<p>“When will we catch something interesting on one of these prefect rounds?”</p>
<p>“I’d rather not catch anything interesting.”</p>
<p>Ron shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’d personally love to bust Fred or George snogging someone…”</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her eyes but a smile tugged at her lips. He counted that as a win. </p>
<p>They spent the rest of the evening joking and laughing, and of course, having interesting conversations that would have annoyed the living daylight out of Harry. And that was how, for the rest of their prefect shifts spent together, they came to devote the majority of their time to one of two things: worrying about Harry, or meaningless, silly debates. Ron decided maybe he was meant to be prefect after all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. fifth year, part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“So, what are our topics of conversation tonight?” Ron’s attempt to bring some levity to the evening fell short. Hermione’s mind was occupied with thoughts of Sirius, of Harry, of the chaos that had been the Department of Mysteries. Her ribs still hurt - both her and Ron had been released from the Hospital Wing about two days ago. McGonagall had told them she could get the older Gryffindors to cover their prefect shifts for the rest of term, but Hermione had insisted. She needed some semblance of normalcy, and routine. And she needed time to talk with Ron about it all. </p>
<p>But where could she start? Everything was so dismal - Voldemort gaining power, Sirius gone, the world becoming more and more unsafe for them. </p>
<p>“Want to lecture me about something stupid?” Ron tried again, Like, what was it last time...the way I hold a fork?” </p>
<p>Hermione felt the tears brimming in her eyes. She’d already cried quite enough times in front of him, and everyone else for that matter, over the last week in the Hospital Wing. Would it ever stop? She swallowed hard and tried for a smile, but he knew her better than that. </p>
<p>“Hermione? What’s wrong?” </p>
<p>She shook her head and sniffed, kept her gaze trained on the long corridor ahead of them, focused on the way their steps echoed in the emptiness. “I mean...what do you think?”</p>
<p>Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ron’s shoulders sag. “Guess that was kind of a stupid question. Everything’s rubbish.” </p>
<p>“Completely rubbish.”</p>
<p>She pushed open a door to an empty classroom. Nobody was in there. Since the news broke about what happened at the Ministry, the school had seemed to lose life. The excited chatter that normally accompanied end of term dissipated into fear. </p>
<p>Summer. The impending summer reminded Hermione of her parents, which only made her feel worse; they were in danger. She was one of Harry Potter’s best friends, the muggleborn who fought by his side against Voldemort. She had a target on her back, and so, by association, did her parents. She didn’t know what to do - part of her wanted to spend the summer cooped up with them, keeping them safe. Another part of her knew that the more time she spent with them, the more danger they’d be in. </p>
<p>“Can I come to the Burrow this summer?” Hermione blurted out. Her voice echoed against the walls. </p>
<p>“Er, yeah. Of course. Already thought you and Harry’d be there.”</p>
<p>“Not all of the summer,” she amended, “I should spend at least a few weeks with my parents, maybe two, it’s just...I’m worried about them.” She turned to look at him and saw his expression soften so much her heart swooned. </p>
<p>“You don’t think...I mean, they won’t find your parents, will they?”</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip. “I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“They could come stay with us too, if that’s safer…”</p>
<p>“I don’t think I want them to be so close to all the action...but thank you, though.”</p>
<p>“Course.”</p>
<p>She felt his eyes on her as they turned the corner to begin making their way back to the Gryffindor portrait hole. She blinked quickly, wiped a rogue tear from her eye, and hoped he hadn’t seen. But he had. His gaze never left her. </p>
<p>He reached out and grabbed her hand as she pulled it away from her eyes and pulled her into a somewhat awkward bear-hug. She felt more tears escape but eventually, allowed herself to relax in his arms, breathe in his scent. “We’ll make sure they’re okay,” Ron reassured her. In that moment, in Ron’s arms, her worries disappeared. That was how she realized she was already long gone for him - her worries never disappeared.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. sixth year, part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That was an interesting lesson, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Er, which one?”</p>
<p>Hermione strode slightly ahead of Ron, as usual, with the hop in her step that usually came with the first week of classes. Ron shook his head. He was fairly certain that Hermione was the only person in all of Hogwarts to skip excitedly about after the first week of classes. Except maybe Percy (but Ron didn’t want to think about him). </p>
<p>It was their first shift of prefect rounds for the year, and still, with each shift, Ron was grateful for the extra time he got to spend with her. Alone. Even if she was the only person to skip around after the first week of lessons. </p>
<p>“Potions, of course!” she turned around and looked at him exasperatedly, as if he was supposed to be able to read her mind. “Slughorn certainly has different methods, but it was fascinating to see all those potions when we entered the room!”</p>
<p>“What do you reckon I’ll have to do to get Harry to give me that vial of liquid luck?”</p>
<p>Hermione’s expression seemed to darken instantly. “He should not have won that, that book -”</p>
<p>“You’re just mad because you would have won otherwise.”</p>
<p>“Yes! And, it’s unfair!” Ron smirked at her and she narrowed her eyes. “But...but besides that, I’ve been thinking,” Hermione started, with three words that didn’t surprise Ron in the slightest, “How do you suppose he had the time to prepare all of that?”</p>
<p>“What d’you mean?”</p>
<p>“I mean, didn’t he just come out of retirement? Oh, hold on - ” Hermione paused for a minute to kick open a door to an empty classroom. Inside were two seventh years that split apart immediately, red-cheeked. “After hours,” Hermione chided, “Five points from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Get back to your dormitories, come on.”</p>
<p>The two students grumbled and glared at Hermione, which Ron found very amusing. “Anyways,” she continued, rolling her eyes and strolling ahead. For a brief moment, Ron wondered what it would be like to snog someone in an empty classroom after hours - no, not someone: Hermione. He shook his head quickly, as if afraid she could see his thoughts. </p>
<p>“I was saying, Slughorn just came out of retirement, right? How did he have time to brew all of that? I mean, Felix Felicis takes six months alone to brew, and Amortentia takes 9 days, but even still, didn’t Slughorn just agree to the position a few days before term?”</p>
<p>Ron lost all forms of coherent responses at the mention of Amortentia. The Love Potion. He’d smelled her, he was sure of it now, as he walked behind her down the empty corridor. Broomstick wax, his mom’s shepherd's pie, and Hermione. He’d been trying to reason with himself all day, but each time he got close to her the smell hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d known he felt, well, some kind of way about her, but...but love? He swallowed hard. </p>
<p>“Are you listening to me?” Hermione’s shrill voice snapped him out of his reverie. </p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes. “I said, isn’t it odd? Slughorn being so prepared?”</p>
<p>“Er, yeah. Weird.” She frowned at him the same way she frowned when she was trying to work out a particularly difficult spell. Then she shook her head and continued on. </p>
<p>Weird. Yeah, it was weird. Falling in love - falling in love - with your best friend. He took a deep breath and followed after her. He had a feeling their prefect rounds, alone and together, were just going to get more and more weird.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. sixth year, part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, I was wondering if...if, well, I could switch prefect shifts with somebody.”</p>
<p>McGonagall raised her eyebrows at Hermione and set down the parchment she was grading. “What do you mean, Miss Granger? You and Mister Weasley already submitted your availability earlier in the year - ”</p>
<p>“Not with Ron,” she blurted out. McGonagall’s eyebrows seemed to raise, if possible, even higher. “I’d like to do my rounds with the fifth year Gryffindor. Or even somebody from Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. Please.”</p>
<p>McGonagall paused for a minute and then frowned. “And do you mind, Miss Granger, telling me why that is? We typically have students work with the other prefect from their year.”</p>
<p>What was she supposed to say? He broke my heart, and then I shot birds at his face and ruined our friendship forever. McGonagall wasn’t exactly the kind of professor people confided in for matters of the heart. In fact, she remembered a story that Lavender (Hermione saw red for a moment when she thought of her roommate) had told after the Yule Ball, how Seamus hadn’t asked her to be his girlfriend afterwards and she cried about it to McGonagall and all McGonagall had done was give her a box of tissues and then awkwardly leave the room. Besides, Hermione hadn’t told anyone about her feelings for Ron (except Ginny, who’d guessed and then practically forced an answer out of her at wandpoint). She certainly wasn’t going to tell McGonagall. </p>
<p>“If it’s an argument between you two, you’re grown. I’ve seen you argue before. You can work it out.” McGonagall returned her gaze to her paper. </p>
<p>“We...we can’t this time, Professor.” Her voice sounded so small and meek. How had it gotten so bad? How had it gotten to the point that she needed to get McGonagall involved? Why had she let herself fall in love with him in the first place? She’d told herself from the beginning, you can’t fall for him, he’s your friend. Yet, she’d done it anyways. And look where they were now. She felt the tears brimming in her eyes and tried to wipe them away quickly, before McGonagall saw. </p>
<p>McGonagall looked up at Hermione, and then said, “Sit. Here.” She held out a metal tin full of assorted biscuits. “Have one.”</p>
<p>The act of kindness only made Hermione cry in earnest, and she wished she could just disappear on the spot to rid herself from the embarrassment. If only she had Harry’s cloak. </p>
<p>“Now, I won’t pretend to know what that boy’s done this time,” McGonagall said as she finished chewing a biscuit for herself. “But if it is truly that bad, I can separate the two of you.”</p>
<p>Hermione nodded gratefully and sniffed. “Th-thank you, Professor.”</p>
<p>“I do need to ask, however, to be sure - does whatever he has done warrant detention? Expulsion?”</p>
<p>Hermione almost laughed at the question. She imagined herself, telling McGonagall: Yes, I’d like you to expel Ron Weasley for snogging Lavender Brown because I’m in love with him and he was supposed to go with me to Slughorn’s Christmas party, even though I never actually asked him, just said I was planning to. Why hadn’t she asked him properly? Would it have made a difference? Internally, she kicked herself. </p>
<p>“No, ma’am,” she said, “He didn’t...he didn’t do anything...it’s just, I - ”</p>
<p>McGonagall raised a hand to stop her. For that, Hermione was grateful. “Ah,” she spoke, “I don’t need to know anymore. I dare say I know the nature of what’s happened - I have been teaching the pair of you for five and a half years.” Hermione felt her cheeks turn pink. They always gave her away.</p>
<p>McGonagall placed her biscuit tin back underneath her desk and then said. “I’ll shuffle schedules around. I don’t typically do this, so don’t go telling the others, but since you haven’t asked for anything else before…” </p>
<p>“Thank you, Professor.”</p>
<p>“Now, you best be getting to bed, Miss Granger. I’ll send schedules to you all by Monday morning.”</p>
<p>“Yes, ma’am.” Hermione stood and wiped her eyes. “Sorry about...this. Thank you for the biscuits.”</p>
<p>“It’s quite all right.”</p>
<p>Hermione made her way to the door and McGonagall’s voice stopped her: “Miss Granger?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Professor?”</p>
<p>“If I may...I’d just like to let you know that everything will work itself out. You’ll see.”</p>
<p>Hermione smiled sadly. “I’ll see. Goodnight.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight.”</p>
<p>McGonagall, of course, was right. Eventually, things did sort themselves out, in time. </p>
<p>That Monday, when Ron received notice of the updated schedule, he had to admit his heart sank.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. sixth year, part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ron hadn’t been so happy about his prefect responsibilities in, well, months. His shift had changed back. And he had finally gotten rid of Lavender, so he didn’t have to endure her lectures about spending too much time with Hermione anymore. Things were good. </p>
<p>Well, besides the whole You-Know-Who business. And the fact that Harry was snogging his sister, which wasn’t really the worst thing in the world, he was actually quite happy for them, it was just the matter of them doing it in front of him. All the time. Had he been that bad with Lavender? (Yes, he had). </p>
<p>It felt like a miracle that Hermione was talking to him again, let alone confiding in him, laughing with him, everything they used to do. But something had changed. Of course something had changed, after four months of not speaking. Things felt like they could be on the verge of something else, now; he wasn’t afraid to touch her, and had their knees always touched when they sat side-by-side in class? </p>
<p>He’d apologized to her profusely after the poison escapade. She’d been at his bedside and he was just so happy to have her by his side once again, like coming up for air after being underwater. Like he could finally breathe again. </p>
<p>He felt lucky that she’d forgiven him so easily. That she’d apologized too. </p>
<p>“Hey,” she smiled at him when he climbed out of the portrait hole to meet her for their first rounds together in months. </p>
<p>“Hey yourself,” he smiled back. “Seems McGonagall decided we could do this together again.”</p>
<p>Hermione flushed. “I may have persuaded her.”</p>
<p>“Being a teacher’s pet has its perks, huh?”</p>
<p>She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on. I’d like to get to bed on time.”</p>
<p>He fell into step beside her. Their hands brushed once, twice, three times. They definitely never used to walk this close to one another. Ron couldn’t help but hope that maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t completely botched any chance they had of something more than friendship. He watched as her cheeks flushed a deeper red, and looked away quickly when she caught him staring. </p>
<p>“What?” she asked. </p>
<p>“Huh?”</p>
<p>“What’re you looking at me like that for?”</p>
<p>His face turned red, but he smiled as he faced ahead. “Just happy to be back to our normal shift.”</p>
<p>She studied him for a moment, then said quietly, “Me too.”</p>
<p>Their hands brushed at least seven more times that evening.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. seventh year</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The castle was in ruins. Together, Ron and Hermione climbed over rubble and debris, made their way up stairs and towards untouched quarters of the castle. </p>
<p>“Just like old times,” Ron said, though he held her hand firmly now. </p>
<p>“Old times?” Hermione had no clue how it could feel like anything familiar, when their home for six years was in ruins. When so many had been lost. When the fear that had been hanging over their heads since the end of fourth year, when Cedric’s dead body appeared, was finally defeated. </p>
<p>“Prefect rounds,” Ron said. “You and me.” He helped her climb over a small pile of rubble and then turned down a long corridor. “Think this is where you told me you hate how I hold a fork.”</p>
<p>She snorted and held his hand tighter. “I may have been a bit harsh.”</p>
<p>“Nah. You’re perfect.”</p>
<p>Hermione stared up at him and he stared back. There were tears in his eyes - there had been, on and off all day, any time he thought of Fred - but he smiled down at her. A few tears escaped and she reached up and brushed them off his cheek. Then he dipped his head to kiss her, because they could do that now, after all, and she tugged on his frayed collar to pull him into an empty classroom and pressed herself flush against him. </p>
<p>“Think anyone will come and bust us?” he said, in between kisses, “Snogging in an empty classroom, after hours…”</p>
<p>“Let them try,” she said back with a fierce look in her eyes. They didn’t leave the classroom for quite some time.</p>
  </div></div>
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